The Other Side of Midnight
by Xanthia Morgan
Summary: After the Ball, Macavity seeks revenge on the cat who ruined his plans. COMPLETE
1. Default Chapter

Author's Note: I have been a long time fan of the musical CATS with Mistofolees being my favorite character. Something about the mischievous and mysterious cat sparked my imagination from the first, not to mention that very catchy song! Having seen the show 3 times now, and having had this story in my head for about the same number of years, I decided to leave my regular fandoms and tackle the Jellicle world. Despite the fact that I do not own them, (insert standard disclaimer here - they aren't my property yadayadayada don't sue me) I hope that I have done them proper justice. ~~~~~ Xanthia

  
  
  
  


The Other Side of Midnight

(A CATS fanfic)

  
  


by Xanthia Morgan

  
  


Mistofolees ached. Everywhere. Having spent a lot of time making his tricks look effortless, the other Jellicles had no idea how much energy it took to perform magic. Especially magic on the level of what he'd done tonight. He still wasn't sure exactly how he'd managed to pull Old Deuteronomy away from Macavity's clutches but he had. And he was going to pay dearly for it in a couple of hours. The magician groaned aloud just thinking about it. 

  
  


First would come the aching muscles of a body that had been pushed to the physical limit. He knew the other cats would laugh at that. They thought it was all arm waving and hand gestures. Little did they know that every muscle was taut with the effort it took to control the immense amount of energy that raged through the small tom's body when he used magic. He could always count on a few pulled muscles on top of the general ache. Next would come the insatiable hunger. Ironically, any food he ate inevitably make its own magical reappearance shortly thereafter. His overloaded metabolism just couldn't handle anything stronger than light broth. Finally, "my personal favorite," he thought sarcastically, was the bone crushing fatigue. Most of the time a good long nap would cure the feeling but tonight's work would result in a sleep bordering on unconsciousness lasting at least two full days. He would consider himself lucky if he didn't pass out before reaching home. As it was, his reserve strength was sapping rapidly and all he was doing was sitting on a box, waiting for the others to leave so they wouldn't see him stumbling home. 

  
  


"Mistofolees." So depleted were senses that the raspy voice startled him.

  
  


The Rum Tum Tugger smiled with wry amusement. "Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you." 

  
  


The tuxedo cat only snorted at the larger tom's apology. It was a rare day that anyone could sneak up on the Magical Mr. Mistofolees and the Tugger was enjoying the moment. "Is there something I can do for you, Tugger?" he asked, trying hard to be polite when all he really wanted was to be left alone.

  
  


"Old Deuteronomy asked me to see you home." 

  
  


The magical cat studied the Tugger carefully but could see no sign that he was joking. Still he, had to ask. "He what?" 

  
  


"He's concerned that you might have overdone it tonight and wants me to make sure you get home okay." Tugger watched the reaction on the magicians face and cut him off when he saw the denial in the dark eyes. "I know what you're going to say so don't bother. You're a grown tom, yes we all know that, but you stretched yourself to the limit tonight and while others may not realize what it takes out of you, Old Deuteronomy does. And so do I. And the three of us know that you'll be lucky not to fall flat on your face three blocks from the junkyard. Hence, the escort. So you have two choices. You may tell me to go to hell, a trip which I might actually enjoy, and go home alone in which case I will just follow you. Or you can let me help you. Either way, you're stuck with me."

  
  


Mistofolees wasn't quite sure what to say. Or do. It might have been his tired mental state, for he was seldom at a loss for words, or it might have been the sincerity in the Tugger's tone. The large tom was actually concerned for him. He knew they were friends, as much as Tugger considered any competition for the queens a friend. But he realized in this moment that the Tugger actually cared. It was heartening if not a bit disconcerting. And there was something else, too. Something that nagged at the fringes of his frayed thoughts. "There's something more," he said, looking at the Tugger with narrowed eyes, trying to open his mind to the thought that was trying to form. At last the synapses found relays. "You think there's danger for me. You think Macavity will try and avenge his foiled plan."

  
  


The Rum Tum Tugger nodded. "It's a very real possibility. He can't be terrible happy about what happened. You stole his prize right from under his nose. Old Deuteronomy and I both think it's for the best that you not walk home alone."

  
  


The small black tom sighed. He couldn't argue with them. It seemed plausible. "All right," he agreed. "I agree to the bodyguard. But if you tell anyone . . . " he let the threat hang.

  
  


Tugger raised his hands defensively. "I know. I know. You'll turn me into a mouse and feed me to Bustofer Jones. You've been using the same threat for a year. You really ought to think of something new."

  
  


Mistofolees only smiled and uncurled himself from the boxtop. He stood and swayed, realizing that he had less strength than he thought. He felt Tugger's steadying hand on his arm and was suddenly glad for the company on the long walk home. 

  
  


"Mistofolees! Mistofolees!" Demeter's voice was edgy with concern. "Can I speak with you for just a moment?"

  
  


The magician turned toward her and smiled. "Of course, Demeter. What can I do for you?"

  
  


"It's Munkustrap. He didn't want me to say anything," she looked around to be certain she wouldn't be overheard, "but he's still bleeding from one of the slashes Macavity gave him. Could you . . . ?" Her voice trailed off. The tribe had discovered early on in Mistofolees magical career that along with the ability to produce pretty blue sparks, came a slight but latent ability to heal small wounds. Nothing miraculous but those pretty sparks could stop bleeding quite quickly as he had, unfortunately, had to prove more than once. He had sworn long ago that he would use this ability to help anyone who asked it of him so he smiled at Demeter and was about to ask her where Munkustrap was when the Tugger pulled at his arm. "This isn't a good idea, Mistofolees," he hissed quietly so Demeter wouldn't hear. "You haven't the strength. Tell her . . . "

  
  


"Tell me what?" Demeter asked, her sharp ears pricking at his whispered words. 

  
  


"Tell you," Mistofolees said gently with a quieting glance at Tugger, "that you should lead the way."

  
  


Demeter smiled with relief and motioned for them to follow her. Tugger glared at Mistofolees but the tuxedo cat ignored him. His displeasure at the older tom's objections did not, however, prevent him from leaning heavily on Tugger's offered arm. He would take strength where he could get it at this point. 

  
  


It didn't take them long to reach Munkustrap. He was lying in the trunk of a car, leaning against an old pillow that Demeter had 'borrowed' from home several months before. "Demeter!" he said sharply when he saw who was with her. "I told you I was fine."

  
  


"I know you did," she said sweetly. "And I'm sure you think you are. On the other hand, I know better so be quiet and let Mistofolees take a look at your side." 

  
  


Munkustrap protested loudly for a moment then sighed as he caught the look on his mate's face. He wouldn't win this one and he knew it. "Oh, all right," he grumbled. "Just get it over with."

  
  


Mistofolees smiled tiredly and examined the long gash. "Hold still, Munk. This won't take but a second." Mistofolees took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He turned his thoughts to the deep place within himself where the magic lay; dormant now, depleted. He took another deep breath and summoned the magic. Sluggishly, it responded. He concentrated harder. Only Tugger noticed the thin sheen of perspiration on the magician's brow as he pulled at the magic, willing it to come forward. Another deep breath and the magic responded, filling him with artificial strength. Blue sparks jumped off his fingertips and he opened his eyes and focused his energy on the oozing gash 

on Munkustrap's side. Healing of this type was delicate and required intense concentration and an accurate aim. His dark eyes widened as his mind saw the bleeding veins and capillaries that lay hidden deep in the wound. Mistofolees forced the magic into a razor thin beam and fired. 

  
  


Blue lightening shot out from his fingertips and Munkustrap jumped and howled as the sparks entered the painful cut. So intent on Munkustrap was Electra and Munkustrap on his own discomfort that only the Tugger saw the grimace of pain that contorted the small tom's face as the magic was released. Only the Tugger saw the small puffs of smoke that wafted off the glittering fingertips. 

  
  


"Growltiger's ghost, boy! Warn me next time, would you!" Munkustrap gasped as the glittering sparks faded away. 

  
  


But the magical cat didn't hear him. He was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

The Other Side of Midnight

Chapter 2

  
  


Tugger ran after Mistofolees and found the magician on his knees on the ground a short distance from the old car, his paws cradled against his chest, his face a tight mask of pain.

  
  


"Let me see," Tugger said quietly, pulling gently at the small tom. "Let me see." 

  
  


Mistofolees wanted to ignore his friend, wanted to close his eyes and let the unconsciousness that beckoned from the distance come closer. Unfortunately, the caring concern in the Tugger's voice wouldn't let him. He had to reassure his friend he was okay so he gathered what little strength he had left and looked up. "I'm all right," he whispered hoarsely. "I just wasn't expecting it."

  
  


"Expecting what?" asked the Tugger, still pulling at Misofolees' arm. "Let me see."

  
  


Mistofolees gave a short breathless laugh that was more of pain than mirth. "It hasn't happened in a long time. I guess I'd forgotten."

  
  


"Forgotten what? Damn it, Mistofolees, let me see!" Mistofolees held out his paws and the Tugger gasped, then whistled low in his throat. The tips of the nimble black paws were red and blistered. It looked as if the young tom had held them over a flame and hadn't pulled them back in time. 

  
  


"What the hell happened?" Tugger demanded.

  
  


"I went too deep. The magic there is very concentrated and I forgot to shield my paws against the energy force." The magician coughed out another painful laugh. "Not that I could have if I'd tried." 

  
  


"Why did you do it then?" The Tugger was angry.

  
  


Mistofolees raised his eyes from his burned paws and met the Tugger's gaze. A lopsided smile that was tight with pain and exhaustion curled at his lips. "Because Demeter asked me. And I swore long ago that I would help any Jellicle who asked." He could see that Tugger had a hard time grasping the concept of self-sacrifice for another. Still, he wanted to make his friend understand. "I can do simple parlor tricks or great feats of magic, that's true. But that's not what magic is, not really. Magic is power. Yes, it makes for a nice diversion now and then but when I'm really needed to do something, like tonight, that's when it becomes what it's truly meant to be, a power worth having. And with that power comes great responsibility. There are those who want that power for themselves. Macavity has a small amount of magic, of that there's no doubt, but he craves more. He wants to have more so he can do more. More evil, more mayhem. Someone has to counter that, Tugger, don't you see? And I am the only someone who can do that right now. If I were to turn my back on the responsibility of my gift, I would be no better than the Hidden Paw himself." He could tell that the Tugger was thinking. The large tom's forehead was furrowed and his paws twitched. 

  
  


Finally, the Tugger nodded. "You're right. I think. Still and all, depleting yourself like that can't be good for you. You need to get some rest." He stood and helped Mistofolees to stand. He felt the magical cat sway and lean heavily against him. Tugger knew that the little tux was at the end of his endurance. "Why don't you just stay here?" he suggested. "Why do you have to go home?" 

  
  


"My family is a man of some magic himself. He sees us as we truly are." 

  
  


The Rum Tum Tugger stopped and stared at his friend. "No one, no one sees us as we really are, Mistofolees. You are mistaken."

  
  


The magician shook his head. "You are mistaken, Tugger. There are those few humans who can see us in this form. My family, Attivus, is a man of magic. He sees beyond the cat that other humans see. I can choose which form I present to him."

  
  


Tugger was skeptical. No one had ever seen beyond the feline form they presented at home. People, to his knowledge, had no idea of the human forms the Jellicles could assume when unobserved. That Mistofolees' family could see this was odd and slightly disturbing. "Does Old Deuteronomy know about this?"

  
  


"Yes. He has always known."

  
  


"I still don't see why you can't sleep it off here." Tugger grumbled, irritated that someone knew something he didn't. 

  
  


"Ah, but you see there is something else about Attivus, my friend. He's a doctor."

  
  


"A veterinarian?!" The Rum Tum Tugger paled. Although he knew that the doctors who cared for animals did a lot of good, he was terrified of them. He didn't know of a single cat, or dog for that matter, who didn't vanish every time the word was mentioned. 

  
  


Mistofolees chuckled with genuine mirth. "No, not a veterinarian. A human doctor. It comes in handy sometimes. Especially a time like this. You see, Tugger, until my strength is restored I can't change back."

  
  


Tugger stopped and pulled his friend around so he could see his face. "What about your shields?" Every Jellicle had an innate ability to shield their true forms from the rest of the world. But sometimes a Jellicle had lost the ability for one reason or another and the results had been catastrophic. Some had been burned at the stake for being witches. Others had been tortured as demons. And some had been enslaved by traveling shows who showed them off for money. A cat who couldn't shield was in a very dangerous place.

  
  


"I can shield." Mistofolees assured him, his dark eyes meeting the Tugger's green ones evenly. "Long ago I learned how to put away enough magic in a place I couldn't reach it so that I would always be protected." 

  
  


"How did you manage that?" Tugger wondered. He was finding out more about his small friend in an hour than he had in almost a year. 

  
  


"The twins," was all Mistofolees said. And Tugger knew that he meant Coricopat and Tantomile. The two mystical cats had no magic, not Mistofolees' kind anyhow, but still possessed a strange power of their own. Most Jellicles were both awed and intimidated by this and the twins had few friends. Mistofolees was one of them. 

  
  


"Well, as long as I don't have to worry about losing you to a crowd of humans," Tugger replied. "Now let's get you home before it gets any lighter." The tom put a supporting arm around Mistofolees' back, careful not to brush the raw, painful paws and led him out of the junkyard and into the brightening dawn.

  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

The Other Side of Midnight

Chapter 3

It shouldn't have been so easy, Macavity chuckled to himself, but the reality was that the Rum Tum Tugger and the exhausted conjurer were no match for his hardened henchcats. The fight had been short and bloodless. Well, bloodless for him. His henchcats suffered nothing more than scratches but the Tugger - Macavity shrugged. What was the human saying? You have to crack a few eggs to make a good omelet. He hadn't wanted to kill the randy tom. He rather admired the cat's stamina. The Tugger's sex appeal could have been useful to the Hidden Paw had the Tugger been willing to see reason but no matter. Macavity had what he wanted. Or rather who he wanted. 

  
  


Macavity's sunken eyes focused on the bloody, unconscious figure in the corner. He knew from experience that maxing out one's magic was exhausting. He didn't have near the power that the little tuxedo tom did but it was still enough to send him to his knees when he overused it. Macavity unfolded himself from where he sat, sprawled, on a ratty velvet divan and sauntered over Mistofolees. He poked idly at him with his foot and clucked his tongue at the long deep scratches that marred the black fur on the conjurer's side. Macavity's foot shot out again, this time an angry kick that cracked bones and dislodged the broken arm the Mistofolees had unconsciously cradled against his chest. He'd wanted Mistofolees unhurt but the little cat had fought back. He had been honestly surprised that the magician had so much fight in him after having drained himself. The Hidden Paw suspected the fight was more to help his friend than himself but the result was the same. His henchcats got a little rough. Tugger got a little dead. And the young tom was his.

  
  


***************************

The junkyard was quiet. Most of the Jellicles that had slept here were laying in the noon sun's warmth and relishing the afterglow of a wonderful ball. Munkustrap was basking on the trunk of the car, watching over the kittens as they played hide and seek among the heaps of trash. "I wouldn't hide in there," he warned Victoria as she crept toward an old wood stove. "You'll get dirty." 

  
  


The little queen stopped short and looked at him. Then she looked at the soot blackened stove then down at her white fur. With a sassy shake of her head, she turned to her right and headed for an old wooden crate. "I wasn't going to hide in there anyway," she said nonchalantly. Munkustrap laughed out loud. It was common knowledge that the dainty kitten was very vain about her fur and hated getting dirty. He was getting ready to tease her further when the wind brought a new scent into the junkyard. The Jellicle protector jumped to his feet. The other cats, sensing his alarm, went from pleasant lethargy to heightened wakefulness in an instant. Munkustrap sniffed at the passing breeze. The smell of blood was heavy in the air and coming closer. With a wave of his hand, the older cats had the kittens tucked close against their bodies. He sent a warning glance to Victoria where she sat hidden in the crate. The little queen's eyes were wide with fright and she simply nodded at his unspoken command. Something at the edge of their territory crashed and they could hear the uneven footfalls of someone coming closer. The smell of blood was almost overpowering and Munkustrap could now tell for certain that the blood was that of a cat. Another crash and a large tom came stumbling into the clearing. Munkustrap's heart leapt into his throat as he recognized the telltale tuft of fur that stood up along the bloody tom's shoulders. 

  
  


The Rum Tum Tugger's eyes searched the horrified faces around him until he found the striped gray visage he sought. 

  
  


"What happened?" 

  
  


"Macavity," he croaked. "Last night."

  
  


A horrible thought began to grow in Munkustrap's mind. "Mistofolees?" he whispered hoarsely.

  
  


A broken sob escaped the Tugger's throat. "I couldn't stop them," was all he could say before his body went limp and he crashed to the ground.

**********************

  
  


The deep blackness that surrounded him wasn't strong enough to keep away the pain that burned at the edges of his awareness. It was there, red and flickering, even as he waited here in the dark place that was unconsciousness.

  
  


Mistofolees

  
  


The voice was whisper soft. Not even a voice, really, more like the essence of one drifting on air. Still, he ignored it. To acknowledge the voice meant that he had to acknowledge that part of him was aware and that was exactly what he did not want.

  
  


Mistofolees

  
  


The voice came closer and he could sense a presence beyond the perimeter of darkness. A presence ringed with light and magic.

  
  


Mistofolees

  
  


The magician sighed to himself. Maybe if he concentrated hard enough it would just go away.

  
  


I know you can hear me

  
  


The disembodied voice was becoming irritated. Despite his better judgement, Mistofolees opened his eyes. 

  
  


I'm glad you decided to join me

  
  


The voice wasn't just an empty echo on air. There was a figure attached to it. A queen, gray with tufted ears and painted red claws. She was familiar somehow. "Do I know you?" Mistofolees asked, his brow narrowed with thought as he tried to place her.

  
  


In a way I was the last Jellicle reborn 

  
  


Mistofolees eyes widened in astonishment. "You're Grizabella!"

  
  


The gray queen smiled I was called that once

  
  


"What are you called now?" Mistofolees wanted to know.

  
  


There are no names in the Heaviside Layer But you may call me Grizabella if you must 

  
  


Despite his concentration on the apparition before him, the magical cat could feel the pain beckon more strongly from the edges of his consciousness. "Why are you here?" he asked softly, trying to focus that part of his brain that felt the pain elsewhere. "I'm not dead, it hurts too much for that. Or are you here to take me with you?" He heard the desperate hopeful plea in his voice. He hadn't wanted to die when he saw Macavity in the alley. He fought desperately to avoid just that fate but now he could feel the agony that awaited him in life and he wasn't so sure he'd made the right choice.

  
  


I'm not here to take you Grizabella sounded almost regretful I am here to help you

  
  


"Help me? How can you help me? Tugger tried to help me and he's . . . " Mistofolees stopped, unable to say the words for a moment. "He's dead." There. They were out. And with them came hot tears that tracked down the white face. "He died trying to save me from Macavity but they killed him."

  
  


The old cat reached out a misty paw and Mistofolees felt a warm brush on his shoulder. He lives, my child Your friend is made of stronger stuff than you might think - as are you 

  
  


The young tom snorted as he wiped his eyes. "I'm not strong. My magic is what made me strong and I have no magic left. Not now anyway."

  
  


Grizabella laughed, a gentle sparkling sound whose echo tinkled around the blackness. There is more magic inside you than you can possibly imagine, young Mistofolees And I am here to help you find it 

  
  


Mistofolees raised wide, hopeless eyes to this strange ghost. "More magic? But I used it all up. There will be no more until I've rested and then when I have it back Macavity will take it. I know that's why he took me. He wants my magic. He wants it for his evil purposes. Then he will kill me."

  
  


No He will not He will not take your magic He will not kill you Macavity wants you for your magic, that's true, but even he doesn't know the extent of your abilities Bringing back Old Deuteronomy from Macavity's clutches wasn't some parlor trick, my child There is real power in you and I am here to show you how to find it

  
  
  
  


Again the red-hot pain flared against the black shield that had held the torment at bay and Mistofolees moaned. "Then show me," he whispered desperately, "for I haven't much time."

  
  


Grizabella held out a shimmering paw. Come, then, and let me show you some real magic


	4. Chapter 4

The Other Side of Midnight

Chapter 4

For hours, Munkustrap paced the junkyard, his mood black and menacing. The kittens, used to his friendly, teasing ways, cuddled close to their mothers. They watched the changed tom with wide, frightened eyes. Only Old Deuteronomy dared approach him. After they'd spoken, the tom relaxed a little but his eyes still burned with an intensity that kept the kittens at bay. The Jellicle protector had lost one of his own and he would not rest until Mistofolees was safe. Or avenged. 

  
  


The whole tribe waited in stunned silence. The Rum Tum Tugger was seriously injured but he would, according to Jennyanydots, live to prowl another day. Demeter and Jellylorum were certain that he would use his new scars to his advantage. They had already noticed Bombalurina keeping careful watch at his side. As for Mistofolees, they could only wait. And hope. Wait for news of how they might be able to help him and hope that they weren't too late. 

  
  


A rustling at the perimeter sent the tribe into full alert. Kittens were hurried into pipes and boxes and the toms and queens assumed an attitude of battle-readiness. A loud clang and a frantic scrabbling of claws on metal announced that someone was coming up over the top of the car heap. Claws unsheathed and fur rose on the back of Jellicle necks. When the intruder jumped down into their midst, he was immediately surrounded by a dozen hissing cats.

  
  


"Oi, now! It's on'y me! It's on'y me!" Mungojerrie held his paws up in surrender. 

  
  


The Jellicle's backed down but they stayed cautious of the new arrival. For all his boyish charm, Mungojerrie was known to have worked for Macavity in the past and whereas they accepted him last night, today he was under suspicion. 

  
  


"Mungojerrie," Munkustrap said sharply, "I want to speak to you. Now."

  
  


The other cats watched as Munkustrap walked away and a nervous Mungojerrie followed. They had wondered if the Jellicle protector would question the sneak thief about his whereabouts during last night's abduction. No one wanted to think that Mungojerrie was involved. Despite their dubious reputations, he and Rumpleteazer were warmly thought of by all.

  
  


"Anything?" Munkustrap asked urgently when they were out of hearing range of the other cats.

  
  


The orange-striped tom looked around carefully then dropped the slight slouch and nervous demeanor. "I searched Macavity's known hideouts and turned up a blank in every one." Gone was the cocky Cockney and in his place was a very self-assured and well-spoken young tom. "Teazer asked around and there's rumor of activity at an abandoned cheese warehouse he used to frequent on the very edge of town." 

  
  


Munkustrap nodded. "I think I know the place. Go on."

  
  


"According to what Teazer heard, several suspicious cats were seen carrying another cat into the place shortly after dawn. One of her sources spotted Macavity going in to the same warehouse a short time later. He hasn't come out."

  
  


"Thanks, Mungojerrie. We'll take it from here." 

  
  


"Munkustrap, the rumors are that the cat carried in was badly hurt. Unconscious at the very least."

  
  


The gray tom hung his head a moment, then nodded in understanding. He extended a paw to the thief. "Thank you."

  
  


The orange striped cat shook the offered paw and turned to leave. 

  
  


"Mungojerrie," Munkustrap called softly, "anytime you want to leave this double life behind. . ."

  
  


"What? You want us to give up the excitement and suspense of crime for this pile of junk?" His paw extended to encompass the junkyard, then smiled. "Someday, my friend, we'll come home. But for now. . . being an agent of the Napoleon of Crime has it uses." With that he assumed his slouched pose and cocky walk and sauntered out of the junkyard. 

  
  


When Munkustrap returned, everyone's eyes were on him alone. He leaped up onto the trunk of the car. "Mungojerrie had nothing to do with Mistofolees disappearance. But after a little - persuasion," Munkustrap flexed a paw as if it hurt, giving the impression he'd used more than a little persuasion, "he dropped a few hints as to where Macavity might have taken him. This will be very dangerous. The place is on the edge of town, far from our territory. Who's with me? 

  
  


A roar of acceptance swelled through the cats and anyone passing by the junkyard at that moment would have been startled and perhaps a bit frightened by the horrific noise that emanated from its depths.


	5. Chapter 5

The Other Side of Midnight

Chapter 5

  
  


The light was brilliant! So bright that it almost hurt to look at it. Silver-blue and sparkling like frost in moonlight, it was spread out as far as Mistofolees could see. 

  
  


"What is this place?" he wondered breathlessly as his eyes tried in vain to find both the source and end of the light.

  
  


This is the magic Grizabella answered, trying but not quite succeeding in hiding how obvious she thought the answer was.

  
  


"My magic?" Mistofolees asked with wide eyes.

  
  


Your magic All magic You have always believed that the magic was within you and that is true - but it doesn't come from within you It comes from the life force that is all around you From every living thing around you You are one of the rare few who can use this force and that is the true magic I am here to show you how to tap into this life force 

  
  


"And that will help me defeat Macavity?" The young tom wasn't sure. He was still very afraid of the physical power the ginger cat possessed.

  
  


Yes The force is very strong Stronger than even you can imagine Once you learn to tap into it no one can defeat you

  
  


Mistofolees thought about that for a moment. "But what if I use this newfound power the wrong way? What if I use it for evil purposes? I would become as bad as or worse than Macavity ever was!" The thought clearly horrified the little magician.

  
  


Grizabella laughed softly. Macavity has discovered the dark side of the force, that is true But if it were thought you would ever walk that path I would not be here You are inherently good young Mistofolees just as Macavity is inherently evil You will not abuse your power It is not within you to do so

  
  


"I guess," he conceded doubtfully. The thought of having this much power at his disposal was daunting and he was more than a little nervous. Suddenly, a shaft of white-hot pain shot through his chest. He doubled over and fell to his knees in agony, moaning. He could feel Grizabella's paw rest on his shoulder and the warmth that radiated from her palm spread down his body and the pain subsided. 

  
  


We must hurry 

  
  


Mistofolees struggled to his feet and wiped his hand across his eyes, ridding himself of the last remaining traces of pain. He took a deep breath and nodded. Grizabella held out her paws and the light surged around them and Mistofolees barely had time to gasp in wonder before the sparkling light encompassed him.

  
  


^_^ ^_^ ^_^ ^_^ ^_^ ^_^ ^_^ ^_^ ^_^ ^_^ ^_^ ^_^ ^_^ ^_^

  
  


Macavity was losing patience. It had been hours since the magical cat had been brought to him and the wretched beast was still unconscious. He should have been awake by now. Awake and pleading for his miserable life. Macavity smiled in anticipation. He loved it when his victims begged. Unable to contain his frustration, he sent his foot flying with a heavy kick at the small tom's injured side. The cat's moan of pain and the satisfying crack that indicated the damaged ribs had finally broken made him feel a little better. It wouldn't be long now. That the conjurer could feel the pain was a clear indication that he would be waking soon. 

  
  


The Hidden Paw paced away, his mind whirling with the endless possibilities that came from having the conjurer's power at his disposal. His greedy paws rubbed together as he imagined the heists he would pull, the depraved acts of torture he would inflict. Human and animal kind would fear him even more when he was done. There was never any doubt in his mind that the tuxedo tom would do exactly as he ordered. Most cats, in his experience, were weak creatures when truly cornered. Oh, they fought and hissed but once they realized they were helpless they caved, or tried to run, and there was no where to run here. He surveyed the room around him. The old factory was perfect for his machinations for it had many inside rooms from which there was only one exit. This was one of them. It was large enough to give his captive room to scurry away, but not so large that the strong ginger cat couldn't corner him in a second. The walls were made of thick cement block and the dim light that filtered through the grimy windows gave it a certain sinister ambience that suited his mood for these sorts of - he chuckled to himself - interviews.

  
  


A small sound from the corner and Macavity whirled with amazing speed. In the faint light, he could see the magician begin to twitch and soft moan indicated that he was, indeed, returning to consciousness. Macavity bounded over to the young tom with a spring in his step as he anticipated the coming interview. 

  
  


Mistofolees knew it would hurt, but he had no concept of how much it would hurt until he tried to move. He moaned as pain laced through every inch of his body, even the places where he'd not been injured. He was also aware of new injuries, obviously inflicted when he'd been unconscious, most notably the broken ribs. He moaned again and then cried out in agony as someone grabbed the fur on his head and dragged him up. 

  
  


"Good morning, magician. Time to wake up." 

  
  


He knew the voice. He'd heard it in his nightmares as a kitten. "Macavity," he croaked, unable to stop the name from leaving his lips.

  
  


"I see you know who I am. Good. I would hate to think that my name had gone missing from the Jellicle language." 

  
  


With a great effort, Mistofolees forced his eyes open. He blinked a few times before his vision cleared but when it did he saw he was almost nose to nose with the monster. He gasped in surprise then hissed as the pain of his broken ribs took the breath away again. Macavity laughed. 

  
  


"A bit uncomfortable, are we? I can take care of that for you. I can get you help, get you feeling better in no time," he said sweetly. 

  
  


Mistofolees managed a snort of disbelief. "Really," he whispered, unable to speak louder. "I find that hard to believe."

  
  


"Oh, now that hurts. It pains me deeply that my reputation has been so tarnished by popular culture that I can't even been considered kind enough to help a fellow cat in distress." He punctuated his kind words with a vicious slash of claws across Mistofolees cheek. Mistofolees cried out and raised a shaking paw to his face. Macavity slapped it away hard and gently cupped the injured cheek with his own paw. "I can be kind, conjurer, when I have reason to be. I just need to be motivated. Say you'll join me and you'll see what I mean."

  
  


The tux would have laughed if he'd had enough breath. All he managed was a harsh wheeze. Macavity laughed, too, then he shook the little tom and Mistofolees cried out in pain again. "I'm warning you, magician, I can be kind where kindness merits but I can mete out pain just as easily. You'll do well not to mock me."

  
  


"Or what?" Mistofolees managed after a moment. "You'll kill me? You'll kill me anyway and we both know it."

  
  


"That's not true. I don't want you dead. If I had, we wouldn't be having this conversation. No, no, my young friend, and I can be your friend, I want you to join me. You and I would do very well together, I think. Very well."

  
  


"No," Mistofolees croaked. 

  
  


Macavity said nothing, only raised his free paw and a bright flash of red light danced off his the tips of his claws. He fisted his hand, trapping the red light inside his palm, then opened it suddenly. The red fire sped from his pawtips and struck at the helpless magician. Mistofolees screamed in agony as the magical light ignited each and every one of his wounds with a burning evil flame. After an endless minute of torture, Macavity fisted his hand again and the red fire was gone. Mistofolees whimpered as the magical flames lingered for a second on his wounds, then dissipated. 

  
  


"You see, I have magic, too. Not as advanced as yours but I have it. And I want you to show me how to use it. In return, I will share all that is in my power to share - riches, abundant food, lavish homes, queens. All of it will be yours. And just think, you'd have someone around who shares in your gift. Someone who can sympathize and empathize with your magic. Someone like you."

  
  


Mistofolees eyes closed and tears leaked out from under his tightly shut lids. His head nodded as best it could being held by Macavity's iron grip. "Alright. I. . . I'll join you. Just stop this. Please just stop." 

  
  


Macavity let an evilly satisfied smile spread across his face. "What did you say? I don't think I heard you?" 

  
  


"I said I'll join you." 

  
  


Macavity jostled the magician again and watched with satisfaction as the small tom gritted his teeth against the pain. 

  
  


"No", Macavity whispered, "the other part. The part where you begged me to stop."

  
  


A small sob escaped Mistofolees' throat. "Please. . ." was all he could manage.

  
  


"Please what?" Macavity was enjoying this immensely. It was his favorite game.

  
  


"Please stop. I. . . please just stop hurting me."

  
  


"Alright. I will," Macavity agreed, pleased that it had taken so little to convince the magic cat. He'd known all along that the conjurer would cave, they all did after a while. Those that didn't die that is. Macavity released his hold on Mistofolees' fur.

  
  


"There's only one problem," Mistofolees said sorrowfully as he closed his eyes and bowed his now free head. 

  
  


The Hidden Paw laughed, confident in his victory. "What's that?" he asked condescendingly as he ruffled the fur between Mistofolees' ears. 

  
  


Mistofolees raised his head and opened eyes that shone with an unearthly silver-blue light. "I'm not like you." 

  
  


^_^ ^_^ ^_^ ^_^ ^_^ ^_^ ^_^ ^_^ ^_^ ^_^ ^_^ ^_^ ^_^ ^_^

  
  


It had taken the Jellicles some time to get themselves ready and out of the junkyard. The cats who'd been away when Mungojerrie had come were summoned and Old Deuteronomy was escorted in to confer with Munkustrap on strategy and give his blessing.

  
  


Finally, they left, fanning out so as to approach the old warehouse as unobtrusively as possible. One or two Jellicle's out and about was nothing of note but a great number out en masse was something to remark about so they wanted to keep a very low profile lest Macavity be forewarned of the attack.

  
  


Munkustrap and Pouncival rendezvoused with Demeter and Bombalurina just beyond the warehouse perimeter and waited. Demeter stayed close to her mate and every so often would brush her paw against one of his, just to reassure herself that it wasn't her mate facing death inside. Bombalurina sheathed and unsheathed her claws, waiting for the moment when she could revenge her Tugger. For although he was fickle in his affection, and she in hers, they were rather devoted to each other when it came down to it. Pouncival watched, alert and cautious, for the other cats to arrive. Munkustrap was simply still and closed. He knew that his friend might be dead by the time they made their attack. The only way he could stop dwelling on that thought was to shut himself off from everything else but the plan, so he ran it over and over in his mind until every detail was crystal clear.

  
  


By ones and two the other Jellicles made contact and were sent to their places. Only Jellylorum, Tantomile, and Deuteronomy had remained behind with the kittens. All the others were here and ready to rescue their brother. Jennyanydots was to wait alone at the rendezvous point with her medicines and bandages. By the time the sun was rising on the second day of Mistofolees' captivity, they were ready. 

  
  


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Macavity backed away from the silver-blue light. Somewhere deep in the forgotten recesses of his mind, something stirred to life. It took him a moment to recognize it. Fear.

  
  


The sparkling light filled Mistofolees eyes and glittered at the ends of his fur. He stood up, seemingly unaffected by his injuries, and Macavity noticed that tiny sparks jumped from claw to claw across his paws. He looked down at his own paws and summoned the black magic he possessed to the fore. His hands fisted and opened, red lightening shooting out at his captive. The fire hit the magician and sputtered. Mistofolees didn't even flinch. It was if the blue light was protecting him.

  
  


Macavity then sprang forward, his claws striking out to dig deep into Mistofolees skin. To his very great surprise, Macavity found himself being flung across the room. He hit the back wall of the room hard and slumped to the floor, momentarily out of breath. 

  
  


"I'm not like you," Mistofolees repeated in a whisper that filled the room. "You are evil. Your magic is evil. You take and use and destroy. You kill and torture for fun. You take the mystical divinity of the cat and twist it into your own perverted image. And you have doomed yourself by your actions."

  
  


"Doomed?" Macavity sneered as he found his feet and began to move cautiously toward the door. "I am not doomed. I am revered and respected and I will continue to be honored among cats long after the Jellicles have turned to dust."

  
  


"Reviled, not revered. Feared, not respected. Hated, not honored. And you are doomed. Your powers have given you unnatural long life but they have doomed you to an eternity in hell. You will not go to the Heaviside Layer. You will not be reborn. You will burn forever in the unholy fire that you have served. You must be stopped." Mistofolees voice was breathy and loud at the same time. It was if someone else was speaking through the small tom. 

  
  
  
  


"And who will stop me, magician? You?" Macavity was defiant despite his fear. As long as he kept talking and moving toward the door he was certain he could escape. 

  
  


A high pitched him began to fill the room and Macavity looked around for the source for he could tell it was not emanating from Mistofolees. His gaze brushed the windows and froze. The glass was moving, shifting, vibrating. Suddenly, a great wind seemed to spring up and surround the conjurer. His fur was blowing, his eyes were closed, and then the windows disintegrated in an explosion of glass.

  
  


Mistofolees' eyes opened. "Would you care to repeat the question?" he asked with a hint of sarcastic humor in his breathy voice. 

  
  


Macavity wasted no time repeating himself, he ran for the door. It took him a second to realize, however, that while he was running, the door was coming no closer. He wasn't moving. In fact, he was frozen in place, unable to move even his whiskers. The conjurer, however, was moving. And coming closer. The terrible blue light in his eyes burning even brighter than before. Macavity, the Napoleon of Crime, screamed in terror.

  
  


Mistofolees said nothing as he approached. Macavity couldn't even see what expression his eyes might have held, the light was so intense. Then, a loud noise from outside distracted the magician. His eyes flicked away from Macavity and Macavity sensed a loosening in the invisible bonds that held him. He took this opportunity and launched himself at Mistofolees, knocking him off his feet. He took the conjurer's throat in his iron strong hands and began to squeeze. Mistofolees' paws came up around Macavity's wrists but he couldn't budge them. 

  
  


"Who's got the upper hand now, magician?" Macavity laughed. 

  
  


The light in Mistofolees eyes flared and changed and Macavity was afraid again. The grip on his wrists changed. No longer was Mistofolees trying to push him away, he was holding him in place. The second Macavity realized this was the second the silver-blue light shot out in beams from Mistofolees' eyes and bored straight into Macavity's wicked heart. The two toms screamed as the power force surged through them both. Macavity began to glow, so did the building around them. Then the old warehouse shattered into splinters and concrete dust. And when the dust finally settled, Macavity wasn't there.

  
  



	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: I can't tell you how completely AMAZED I am by the wonderful reviews! *sobs* "You like me! You really like me!" (note - that is a very old, obscure Oscar reference so don't sweat it) Anyway, firmly back in reality (or as close as I ever get) - I was very nervous about writing a CATS fic. The ones I'd read seemed to be full of inferences I never saw and pairings that I never saw either. Still, as I said at the beginning, I had this story in mind for a long time before setting it down in words. I'm thrilled beyond belief that you like it. 

  
  


I have had a few laughs while writing it (out loud laughs, mind you. my kids just kinda look at me funny as I'm writing and shake their heads). Not from the things I put in, but the stuff I didn't. For example, when Grizabella was describing the magic force, I was hard pressed not to make any Star Wars inferences. And the scene with Macavity ("Mistofolees (whoosh whoof whooosh whoof) I am your father.") Anyway, I was very, very good. *pats self on back* Maybe someday I'll parody my own story and let the evil gremlins run loose.

  
  


But here it is, almost at the end, and I have to explain some things coming up. If any of you have read any of my Harry Potter stories, you'll recognize Mistofolees' owner, Attivus. If you haven't, well, he's a wizard and that's where he comes from. Just so you know that equal time is being paid, Mistofolees is mentioned in my Harry Potter stories as Attivus' cat. A magical cat for a wizard - LOL. I couldn't resist. Have I sufficiently confused you? 

  
  


All this nonsense aside, here is part 6. Enjoy!Xanthia

  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Other Side of Midnight

Chapter 6

  
  
  
  


The Jellicles slowly approached the warehouse. There were, to their vast relief, no signs of any of Macavity's henchcats. On the other hand, it was vaguely troubling. It meant either that Macavity wasn't there, or that he was so unconcerned that his captive would escape, he'd dismissed them to other duties. Both thoughts were daunting. Still, the cats kept going quietly forward. Whatever the stillness meant, they would discover what had become of Mistofolees. A sudden crash from next to the building made them all jump! They all rushed toward the sound and were greeted by Tumblebrutus' chagrined smile. 

  
  


"Uh, sorry 'bout that," he whispered as he vainly tried to reposition the heavy metal grate he'd dislodged. "Caught meself on the edge." 

  
  


Munkustrap was getting ready to give Tumblebrutus the sharp side of his tongue when an intense change in the feel of the air about them stopped the words on his lips. To a cat, their hackles rose as something akin to the electric charge of lightning surrounded them. Without warning, the glass windows of the factory shattered. The cats ran, stopping a short distance away to take stock of any injuries. Oddly, no one was cut. But those closest to the windows were covered in a fine shimmering powder. 

  
  


"The windows . . . " Demeter was explaining as she dusted off her fur, "they were pulverized. There were no shards, only powder."

  
  


"Mistofolees!" more than one cat whispered, joyfully. If anyone could shatter glass into sand it was Mistofolees. That meant he was alive! After seeing that all were unhurt, they turned back toward the warehouse, more determined that ever to rescue their friend. But before they could progress ten steps, the building shook. The stunned cats looked on in horror as the walls buckled inward, then exploded outward with a rumble that shook the earth and tossed the Jellicles to their knees. Timber that had once framed the building rained down upon them in pieces no larger than toothpicks. A thick cloud of what smelled like concrete dust obscured their sight and coated their fur. Coughing and choking in the thick haze, the cats fought to stand and squinted through the gloom for any clue as to what might have happened.

  
  


Finally, a light wind sprang up and they were able to see a bit. There was nothing left of the old cheese warehouse. Only the cement foundation and a few crumbled walls remained. Munkustrap was the first to move. He ran toward what was left of the building, screaming Mistofolees' name.

  
  


The magician was easy to find. He lay in the center of a five-foot circle that was completely free of debris. Munkustrap whimpered low in his throat as he reached out a hesitant paw and gently set it against Mistofolees neck. 

  
  


"Is he . . . ?" someone asked from behind him. 

  
  


Munkustrap said nothing. He was concentrating on his fingers, afraid to move lest he miss the telltale sign of a pulse, no matter how thin, against the sensitive pads. Finally, he found it. A small hint of life, barely perceptible, fluttered against his fingers. 

  
  


"He's alive!" Munkustrap cried, tears of relief making wet tracks on his dusty face. 

  
  


"He's alive!" the Jellicles echoed around him, though they weren't sure how it could possibly be. Even from a few feet away, the magician's injuries were obvious. A long, deep gash in his side, ragged claw marks along his cheek, a crooked arm that was obviously broken, a deep dent in his chest that screamed of broken ribs. And his graceful paws, always fastidiously clean and manicured, were blackened and burned and oozing red.

  
  


"Let me through! Let me through, I say!" Munkustrap heard the gumbie cat yell as she pushed aside the cats who blocked her way. "I can't help him from back here, now let me through!" 

  
  


Jennyanydots broke free of the circle of stunned cats, her breath catching in her throat at the sight of what had been done to the Magical Mr. Mistofolees. It only took a second for her to regain her composure, however, and she was down on her knees, her expert paws gently taking inventory of the injuries. 

  
  


"Well aside from the obvious," she told herself, "there's some harsh breath sounds on this side. I shouldn't wonder if one of those broken ribs hasn't punctured the lung. There's some deep bruising on the legs and stomach, possibly some internal bleeding if I'm not mistaken."

  
  


With each pronouncement of Mistofolees' many injuries, Munkustrap's heart fell. He knew that if Jenny was right, and she always was, there was nothing they could do for him. They could take him to one of those veterinarians - he suppressed a shudder at the thought - but he doubted that Mistofolees would survive being carried that far. 

  
  


"He's going to die, isn't he?" he asked Jennyanydots in a choked voice. 

  
  


The gumbie cat looked in his eyes and nodded. "I don't know what I can do to save him," she admitted sorrowfully. "It's beyond my power to heal."

"Perhaps I can help," came a quiet voice from behind the circle of cats. 

  
  


The Jellicles turned, and hissed in startled surprise. A human! A human was standing behind them! 

  
  


Munkustrap strode forward. "Who are you?" he asked suspiciously. "How did you come to be here?"

  
  


"I brought him, Munkustrap." Old Deuteronomy shuffled up to the human and stood beside him, showing all by his pose that he was taking responsibility.

  
  


"But he's a . . . a human," Munkustrap whispered, as if the man couldn't hear them. "Humans cannot see us as we truly are."

  
  


"This one can," Deuteronomy assured him. "He is Mistofolees' family. And he is a doctor. If anyone can save him, he can."

  
  


"What does a human doctor know about Jellicles?" Jennyanydots demanded to know. "We are not the same as humans."

  
  


"Much of us is the same. Besides, he isn't just a doctor, Jenny," Deuteronomy assured her, "he is also a magician, like Mistofolees. He has magic that can help as well as skill. You must let him try."

  
  


The human stood by silently as Munkustrap, Jenny, and Deuteronomy debated. The Jellicles, to a cat, never let their eyes leave him. They studied him closely, although he seemed not to see them. His eyes rested only on the small, injured tom in their midst. His concern for their fallen brother was evident in his bright violet eyes, despite their being hidden by blue triangular spectacles. He had flaming red hair that was tied back in assorted pony tails all over his head. The red hair along with the unusual coloring of his blonde beard and black mustache made him appear almost, well, calico in their eyes. He was also very short for a human man, and there were those among them who wondered if he could possibly have ancestors who had been Jellicles. For there were old nursery tales of Jellicles who'd forsaken their feline half to live the remainder of their lives as humans. Could this man be one of the lost tribe?

  
  


Their time to silently debate the issue was over when Deuteronomy held up a stern paw. "Enough!" he commanded to Munkustrap and Jennyanydots, both of whom had been loudly protesting the man's help. "Mistofolees is dying and you are debating nonsense. Mistofolees trusts this man enough to be his family. I trust this man enough to share our secret. You will let him save Mistofolees if he can." With that he took the man by the arm and escorted him to Mistofolees' side. "Do what you can, Attivus," he encouraged quietly. Deuteronomy then shooed the cats back a few feet and they stood still and silent as the man worked. 

  
  


From the depths of his robes, the man Old Deuteronomy called Attivus took a long wooden stick. 

He held it over the long gash in Mistofolees' side and murmured something under his breath. There was a bright flash and they could see that the wound had stopped bleeding. He touched Mistofolees again in several other places and, after several long moments, he stood. "I can do no more for him here. I need to take him home."

  
  


"Do as you must, Attivus," Deuteronomy said calmly. 

"Can you save him?" cut in Cassandra.

  
  


"Yes, can you?" asked several other cats, their worry evident in their anguished voices. 

  
  


Attivus smiled, a brilliant smile that made the violet lights in his eyes dances. "Yes. His injuries are grave but I believe I can save him." And with a strength that did not seem to fit his small stature, he gently scooped up the unconscious Mistofolees in his arms - and vanished.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	7. Chapter 7

The Other Side of Midnight

Chapter 7

  
  
  
  


If anyone in the town thought it odd that the every cat about seemed to have vanished, it wasn't mentioned. In fact the whole human population seemed to go about their daily lives as if nothing was wrong. To the Jellicles, such nonchalance was unthinkable. How could they not know? How could they not know that the life of one of the world's great mysteries hung in the balance? How could they not know that the Magical Mr. Mistofolees, one of the few magical cats ever to have been born, lay near death in a secluded cottage on the outskirts of town? The Jellicles knew. They knew it from the tips of their ears to the ends of their high-held tails. And they gathered, to a cat, around the house where a human wizard doctor tried to save him. 

  
  


Had Attivus been in a better frame of mind, he would have smiled at all the cats gathered about his garden. They made quite a sight in their various states of disguise. Some of them, those still unsure of this human who could see them for what they were, took their full feline shapes. Others, those who trusted Old Deuteronomy enough to trust the man and those who were too worried to think about it, held their true forms. The kittens, who were decidedly unnerved by the whole affair, kept popping back and forth. But Attivus was too distracted by his work to even notice. The life of the conjurer was in his hands and he was afraid to let his concentration slip for an instant, lest he lose the fragile hold he held. 

  
  


Sweat beaded on his brow as he stitched closed Mistofolees' wounds. Jennyanydots had been correct when she'd guessed at internal injuries and now that Attivus had found them all, he was racing against the clock to get the bleeding stopped. The doctor wanted nothing more than to reach up and wipe his forehead when he felt it swiped for him. He dared not raise his eyes to see who had aided him, but when he made to reach for the delicate scissors on the tray next to his arm, a small paw handed them over. 

  
  


Minute by agonizing minute Attivus worked in silence with the unknown cat at his side. She, for he assumed by the delicate paws it was female, seemed to know what he needed before he called for it. He couldn't wait to see who among the Jellicle tribe was so skilled. "What was their healer's name?" he wondered in the back of his brain. "Jenny-something." Could it be she? He let the thought rattle about in his subconscious while he worked. After several hours, his hand began to cramp from holding the tiny wand he used for delicate work like this. He had closed enough of the wounds to allow himself a brief stretch and he stood up to his full height, turning from side to side to ease muscles that ached from standing so still. It was then that he saw who had helped him. It wasn't the healing cat, as he'd surmised, but one he thought he might have seen before. 

  
  


"Hello," he said quietly.

  
  


"Hello," the cat replied, just as softly. 

  
  


Attivus had guessed correctly, it was a female. "I want to thank you for your assistance. I couldn't have done it so quickly without your help."

  
  


The small queen nodded. "Mistofolees means a great to me, to all of us. I would be remiss in my friendship if I were not to help where I could."

  
  


"Might I ask you name?" Attivus inquired while he stretched his fingers.

  
  


"My family call me Pooky. My Jellicle name, however, is Demeter."

  
  


The human doctor bowed to her. "Might I have the honor of addressing you by your Jellicle name?" he inquired politely.

  
  


Tantomile nodded regally. "Thank you for asking. You may." 

  
  


Attivus nodded back. "Now, Demeter, how is it that you happen to be in here? I am not ungrateful for the assistance, mind you, just surprised."

  
  


A look of profound sorrow crossed the queen's lovely face. "Mistofolees helped my mate. He was injured in the fight with Macavity and Mistofolees stopped his wounds from bleeding. I can't help but think that, had he not used the last of his power to help Munkustrap, he would have had enough to save himself."

  
  


The doctor smiled kindly. "From what I understand of his power, I doubt that the little he used in helping your mate would have mattered. He and his friend, Tugger, is it? Were badly outnumbered. And who knows, perhaps being drained of his power may have helped him in the long run." Attivus put a gentle hand against the soft furry cheek. "He must care for you and your mate very much to have wanted to help. Take comfort in that, my young Demeter, and have hope." 

  
  


Demeter smiled for the first time in many hours. "I do have hope, Sir."

  
  


He smiled back at her. "Now. I must continue. Will you assist?"

  
  


"I will."

  
  


Together the young queen and the human worked into the night. Each wound was carefully reconstructed by Attivus skilled wandwork and those he felt too delicate for the wand were hand stitched. When all the damage to Mistofolees' torso were treated, he turned his attention to the mangled paws and broken arm. 

  
  


"This will be difficult," he sighed, unaware he was talking aloud. "The pads are badly burned. And the arm is broken in more than one place. He is unable to drink any bone-regrowing potions and I don't think I'd use them if he could. I'm not sure how they'd work for cats, even ones more human than not. A good old-fashioned set and splint will do the best, I think. But those paws! Merciful heavens, that fire must have been hot!"

  
  


"It was not fire." The soft voice of his 'nurse' startled the doctor. He'd forgotten about her while he mulled over his options. 

  
  


"Not fire?" 

  
  


"Power. They are power burns. When Mistofolees' magical powers ebb and he draws from deep within himself, the power is so concentrated that if he isn't careful to pull it back, it burns him. Tugger told us he burned his paws when he healed Munkustrap's wounds. I didn't realize at the time what had happened, I was just glad that Munkustrap was better. Anyway, it didn't seem from what Tugger told us that they were that bad. Could he have injured them further when he vanquished Macavity?"

  
  


"Power burns." Attivus repeated thoughtfully. "It could be. A young friend of mine had a similar problem once. I believe the best cure for these paws is another old-fashioned remedy - curative salve and bandages. Once the swelling goes down, then we'll see if anything further needs to be done. Until that time...Miss Demeter, have you ever splinted a broken arm?"

  
  


^_^ ^_^ ^_^ ^_^ ^_^ ^_^ ^_^ ^_^ ^_^

  
  


Mistofolees was floating, he was certain of it. How else could he be moving but have no feeling of moving? He knew that he was moving because the colors around him moved. Vague shapes changed about in misty shadows and he could sense that he was going from one place to another. Air felt different. There were different sounds that brushed his whiskers. Still, all of it was hazy and distorted, like whispers through a series of pipes. He wasn't sure where one thing ended and something else began. It seemed to him that, although there was no time here in this shadowy place, he had been here a very long time. Something told him that he should begin to find his way out but he couldn't. Everywhere he turned there was only the same fog, the same wisps of faint color that came and went. There was nothing to hold on to, nothing to mark a clear way. How could he leave when he didn't know where he was or how he came to be there? And he was so very, very tired. It was so easy to let himself drift. So easy to let the comforting vagueness take him. 

  
  


"I'm worried, Deuteronomy." The doctor stood uneasy at his patient's bedside, fingers worrying at one his many braids. "He should've been awake by now. It's almost as if..."

  
  


"'As if' what, my friend?" Old Deuteronomy put a comforting paw on the human's shoulder.

  
  


"You'll think I'm insane." Attivus laughed nervously. "But I can't help but feel it's as if he's lost his way. As if he can't find his way back." 

  
  


The old cat at his side became very quiet and thoughtful. 

  
  


Attivus stared at his reaction for a moment. "You aren't seriously considering that, are you?" he asked.

  
  


The Jellicle leader nodded. "I am. I don't know why, but I believe you are right, Attivus. I believe Mistofolees is lost."

  
  


"Well, that would explain a lot except what we do about it. What can you possibly do for someone lost in limbo?"

  
  


Deuteronomy grinned. "What you do when anyone is lost. You send someone out to look for him."

  
  


"And how do you propose we do that?" the doctor wanted to know.

  
  


"I believe it is time we summoned the twins."

  
  
  
  


^_^ ^_^ ^_^ ^_^ ^_^ ^_^

  
  


Attivus Attlewart, wizard and doctor, had seen just about everything, so he'd thought, but the sight of more than a score of Jellicle cats in his healing room were enough to make him stare. It had taken Old Deuteronomy the better part of an hour to explain to the 'twins' what he thought was going on and for them to devise a plan. Tantomile and Coricopat, identical down to their whiskers, were mystics of a sort and it was hoped that they could somehow contact Mistofolees - wherever he was - and bring him back. However, they would need the joined power of the entire tribe to attempt it. For the Jellicle cats were linked one and all on a level beyond that of conscious thought. It was by tapping into this power that Coricopat and Tantomile hoped to find Mistofolees and bring him home. 

  
  


A tense silence fell upon the gathered cats as the twins began. One by one each cat was put into a light trance. Two by two, moonlit eyes fell shut until only the human and the twin mystics remained awake. Even then Attivus knew they didn't see him. Their gazes were focused far away on a place that only they could see.

  
  


^_^ ^_^ ^_^ ^_^ ^_^ ^_^ ^_^ ^_^

  
  


Mistofolees 

  
  


The black tuxedo cat opened eyes he wasn't aware were closed. Sound! It was the first sound he could remember hearing since coming to this place. Oh, he had sensed sound, his whiskers had quivered with the vibrations around him, but this was the first thing he had actually heard. 

  
  


Mistofolees Where are you?

  
  


He wanted to shout, to yell. "Here! I'm here!" But he couldn't. Whether it was because he was too tired or he had simply forgotten how, he wasn't sure. He wasn't even sure he wanted to be found. He wasn't sure of anything. Not even the name that echoed through the fog. 

  
  


Mistofolees Come home We are here to take you home

  
  


Home? Wasn't this home? The voices didn't seem to think so. And who was this Mistofolees? Was it him? He couldn't remember. The name, he thought, was familiar somehow, but he couldn't lay claim to it.

  
  


Mistofolees tofolees ofolees 

  
  


There were more voices now. Many voices calling for this Mistofolees. He wanted to ask them why they sounded so frantic, so desperate. "They must care for this person," he thought. "They must want him to return home to come looking for him here."

  
  


The fog around him began to take on shapes, wispy shapes of phantoms that seemed to him familiar somehow. Two that were almost identical in shape and substance formed most clearly near him and he wanted to reach out for them, to call out to them, but he couldn't. Something inside himself was stopping him. 

  
  


A red bolt seared through the grayness and tore through the very center of his being. He cried out as he remembered what it was he fought to hide from. Pain! Pain everywhere! Pain coming from his eyes, his body, his arms, his hands. There was no end to the suffering and then it was gone as quickly as it came. The tom panted as he waited for the aftershocks to leave his body. He was on his knees, his arms wrapped around his chest as if to protect himself, but from what?

Mistofolees! Mistofolees! Where are you? Come to us, Mistofolees! Join us and we will take you home.

  
  


Join us! That's what HE said. Join me! In his mind a shape formed and he recoiled from the sight. "NO!" he screamed into his mind. "You cannot have me!" 

  
  
  
  


Red-hot lightening flashed through the fog and again he was enveloped in agony. The tom screamed as the pain lanced through his body again and again. The gray faded and an all consuming blackness began to eat away at the horizon. "Help me!" he called to the voices. He was not afraid of them, not as much as he was afraid of the blackness. "Help me! I can't get out!" 

  
  


Mistofolees! The twin shapes took perfect form in front of him. 

  
  


"I know you," the young tom whispered. 

  
  


We are here to help you, they answered as one. We are here to take you home. 

  
  


"It hurts," he whimpered. "It hurts so much."

  
  


It won't hurt for long, they assured him. Already you are healing. Already much of the pain has passed. Come with us, Mistofolees. Come home.

  
  


"I'm afraid," admitted the one they called Mistofolees. "I don't know who I am."

  
  


You are who you are, they told him. You are Mistofolees. You are magic and moonlight and you are loved and missed by your tribe. 

  
  


He shook his head. He was so frightened. "I feel so alone," he said aloud. 

  
  


You are not alone. We are all here. All of us. The air around him took on more shapes, shapes he recognized, shapes he knew. We will help you remember who you are. Just let us in.

  
  


Mistofolees wanted to run, wanted to tell them no but the same lethargy that kept him still when they called kept him still now. As much as he craved rest he knew deep down that this place was not giving it to him. Above all else, he wanted to be free of it. Free of the weariness, free of the nothing that enveloped him. 

  
  


"Help me," he sighed as he bowed his head. "Show me who I am."

  
  


The two shapes came forward and put their shadowy hands on his head. Vivid images in bright colors, not wispy gray, came flooding into his mind. He gasped as they filled him, threatened to overload him. At the last second, he gripped them and named them and called them for what they were - memories. Memories of life, of HIS life. Faster and faster they came, flooding his psyche. He sensed that the two figures that touched him - Coricopat! Tantomile! He could name them now - were worried. They were concerned that the flow of information was too much. They tried to stop it, tried to redirect the energy but Mistofolees - that IS my name! - took over the energy flow and let it fill him. THIS is what was missing here. The energy that fed him, fed his magic, fed the very essence of his being. It wasn't that he was tired here, he was starving. And now he was being filled, being fed, and he was alive again. With a joyous bound, he leaped into the air. No longer was he filmy and wispy. He was solid and the beings around him were solid, too. As one, they embraced him and he named them as he touched their outstretched paws. Munkustrap! Demeter! Victoria! Alonzo! Cassandra! Jemima! Admetus! Exotica! Gus! Jellylorum! Deuteronomy! Bustopher! Jenny! Tumblebrutus! Etcetera! Electra! Pouncival! Bombalurina! Skimbleshanks! Mungojerrie! Rumpelteazer! Plato! 

  
  


"Are you ready to come home," asked Tantomile and Coricopat as one.

  
  


"Oh, yes! I am very ready to come home."

  
  


The fog began to lift and Mistofolees saw the path he needed to follow. The friends around him began to fade away. "Wait!" he cried in alarm. "Aren't you coming?"

  
  


Many voices raised up in laughter around him. "We are already here. We only came looking for you. You have been shown the way, it's up to you to return on your own."

  
  


"I have to go alone?"

  
  


Silly Mistofolees It was Grizabella. She stood in front of him, her striped coat shining silver and blue in the clear light You were NEVER alone

  
  



End file.
